


Bonding Activities

by sin_bin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Denial, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Papyrus, POV Sans, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6694078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sin_bin/pseuds/sin_bin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Y'know, petting dogs, watching movies, getting off together, that kind of stuff.</p><p>Lots of romantic/sexual tension, followed by sexual exploration. Rating subject to change, obviously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sans has been petting that accursed canine for ages now, totally oblivious to the world around him. It’s sitting in his lap, tail wagging wildly, pawing at his chest as it repeatedly tries and fails to stand on its hind legs and lick his face. He takes pity on the clumsy creature, lifting it up and chuckling as it flicks its tiny, pink tongue over his cheeks, its stubby limbs flailing through the air. What could possibly be enjoyable about handling that… that squirmy little ball of fur?

You’ve watched this go on for long enough. You walk towards the couch with confident strides, projecting an aura of authority that would surely make anyone want to honour any command or request you might have for them, and cross your arms.

“LET ME HOLD IT.”  
Sans looks up at you, raising an eyebrow.  
“you’ve never wanted to hold it before.”  
“WELL, I WANT TO HOLD IT NOW!”  
“you don’t even like dogs. you just want it ‘cause i’ve got it.”  
He gives you a suspicious look, hugging it close, pressing his teeth to the top of its head.  
“i’m not letting go yet.”  
You bow down towards it and narrow your eyes at the miniscule monster. It doesn’t seem to return your distrust, looking back at you with its innocent, beady eyes, panting happily. 

A brilliant idea occurs to you. You stand up straight, fists raised in front of your torso.  
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO LET GO!”  
Sans’ eyes follow you as you leap onto the couch, catapulting him a few centimetres into the air. He clings to his startled cuddle buddy.  
“hey- hey, easy, what’re you-“  
“WE CAN BOTH HOLD IT! MOVE OVER!”  
You shove him further away from the backrest with your foot, take a step to the side…  
“jeez- you could’ve just asked-“  
And plop down behind him.

“THIS IS FAIR, RIGHT?”  
You hunch down, resting your head on top of his and holding your arms out at his sides.  
“i… guess?”  
He sighs, giving in.  
“go ahead and pet it.”  
“NYEH HEH HEH… LET’S SEE…”

Cautiously, you place your gloved hand on top of its head. Yours is much bigger than your brother’s, folding the soft ears down instead of fitting between them. You just kind of leave it there for a while. The dog seems… unsatisfied.  
“you can move your hand, bro. you won’t hurt it or anything.”  
You lightly run your hand down its back, and it dares to get just the tiniest bit excited again, tail twitching slightly, a hint of a tongue peeking out of its mouth.  
“aw…”  
You repeat the motion a couple of times. Sans relaxes, leaning back against you, bumping his forehead against the side of your face. You’re significantly less tense than you were a few minutes ago, but you’re pretty sure it’s not the dog’s proximity that made you feel better.

“well, i dunno what brought this on, but i’m glad you’re finally getting along with the little troublemaker.”  
You hum thoughtfully, remembering every time you’ve been on the receiving end of its bone-stealing antics.  
“I WOULDN’T GO THAT FAR…”  
You hold it up to his chest, one hand underneath its fluffy butt, the other supporting its back. They both seem pretty happy about it.  
“THIS ISN’T DOING MUCH FOR ME, HONESTLY.”

Even though it’s the middle of the day, the pup seems to have grown rather sleepy, somehow overexerting itself just by… wagging its tail too hard, probably. You carefully lower it back into your brother’s lap. Maybe that’s why he’s so darn attached to the thing. He considers it a kindred spirit.

“no wonder.”  
Sans winks at you before running both of his hands down your arms, slipping them underneath your gloves. Your soul gives an odd twitch at the sudden contact.  
“can’t do much when…”  
His hands are snugly pressed against yours, and he trails off, smiling nervously.  
“…when you’ve still got these on...”  
That sounds like he was planning to remove them, but he must have changed his mind half-way through the sentence, leaving his hands right where they are. The intention behind the action is… unidentifiable. A mix of emotions, both familiar and foreign. They all feel pretty good, though.  
“OH…”  
You spread your fingers slightly, and he takes the hint, hesitantly sliding his own between them. You glance over at him and he blinks, slowly.  
“heh…”  
The both of you are frozen in place, feeling increasingly awkward and increasingly reluctant to let go. You try to break the strange atmosphere, not by snapping out of it, but by easing into it, smiling gently, leaning your head against his, curling your fingers up until his phalanges brush against your palm. This is… nice.

From one moment to the next, your head is unsupported, your hands are cold, and your soul is just a little emptier than it was. Sans is standing in front of you, an uncomfortable, forced grin on his face. He gives you a wink, arms raised in a particularly enthusiastic shrug, your gloves loosely hanging off of them.  
“sorry, bro. must’ve zoned out for a while, there.”  
Your brows furrow. That wasn’t anything like “zoning out”. You were perfectly alert.  
“…anyway.”  
He takes off the gloves and tosses them on the couch.  
“try it now.”

Your head is still reeling.  
“TRY WHAT NOW?”  
He avoids your eyes.  
“the dog. try petting it with your bare hands. that’s what this was about, remember?”

It’s curled up between your thigh bones, looking not entirely unlike a snow poff. You slowly run your hand through its fur, not wanting to wake it, and its tail starts moving from side to side as it snoozes away. You’re probably causing it to dream about being pet. If that isn’t all it dreams about, anyway.  
“it’s nice, right?”  
Sans watches your movements, expression soft, and sits down next to you.  
“THE FUR KEEPS GETTING IN-BETWEEN MY PHALANGES…”  
“heh. yeah.”  
“IT TICKLES…”

You try massaging the sleeping pup’s head and can’t resist playing with its velvety ears, gently folding them in half between your fingers. It stirs, sleepily blinking its eyes open, and soon raises its head to lick your finger.  
“NYEH!”  
Sans snorts.  
“that means it likes you.”  
“AS A SNACK, MAYBE!”  
You wipe your finger on the couch. Gross.  
“LISTEN! MY BONES ARE NOT FOR LICKING, NIBBLING OR BITING OF ANY KIND!”  
You pick the offending monster up and look sternly into its eyes. It fails to feel appropriately chastised, leaning forward, sticking its tongue out and dragging it across your forehead.  
“NO! BAD DOG!!!”  
You hold it as far away from your face as you can before shoving it back at your brother. He seems to find the whole thing pretty amusing.  
“TAKE IT!”  
“ok, ok, calm down…”

He readily receives the little bundle of fluff, holding it in his arms like you’d hold a baby. An incredibly badly-behaved baby. You cross your eyes, trying to look at the wet trail it left on your face.  
“UGH…”  
You grab your gloves and rub your skull clean. Great, now you have to wash them. Who knows what kind of horrible diseases dog saliva carries. You inhale deeply.  
“I THINK I’VE COME TO A VERY DEFINITE CONCLUSION ON THE MATTER OF SKELETON-CANINE INTERACTION, SANS.”  
He gives you a sideways glance.  
“what’s the verdict?”  
You go googly-eyed, still filled with outrage.  
“IT’S TOTALLY OVERRATED!!!”  
“huh.”  
“I MEAN… IT’S NOT FOR ME. YOU CAN KEEP YOUR DOG FRIEND TO YOURSELF.”  
You boop its nose one final time. It’s unpleasantly wet.  
“I GUESS IT’S CUTE. I LIKE HOW SOFT IT IS. BUT…”  
You shuffle a little closer, nonchalantly leaning against your brother, finally getting to the heart of the matter.  
“THERE ARE BETTER THINGS TO CUDDLE, I THINK.”

“hmm. i don’t think dogs can really be beat when it comes to…”  
He pauses, noticing you pressed up against his side. A smug grin creeps onto his face.  
“bro…”  
You look away, suddenly feeling bashful, making an effort to seem slightly annoyed, instead.  
“were you jealous of me for having the dog… or…”  
You stay stubbornly silent and stoic for a while. Sans puts the pup on the ground, and it continues on its merry way to wreak havoc somewhere else. He doesn’t finish the question, looking at you expectantly.  
“I…”  
You turn your head away.  
“I DON’T GET JEALOUS. OF ANYONE.”  
His grin somehow manages to grow even wider.  
“…and what about “anything”?”  
You look shocked for a second, then you can’t help whimpering a little as your face finally falls and your hands come up to cover it.

“pff…”  
You squeeze your eyes shut, pulling your knees up to your chest and giving a forlorn “NYEH” at having been found out.  
“oh my god…”  
When you look over, your brother has pulled his head down into his hoodie, muffling his laughter in it.  
“SAAAAANS…”  
“i’m sorry, i just… holy crap…”  
He barely catches his breath.  
“is that why you were just… sitting over there, glaring at me?”  
More desperate laughter. You drop down onto the sofa, defeated.  
“like… how could he waste time cuddling that mutt when i, the great papyrus, am clearly also in need of cuddles…”  
“NYOOOOOO….”  
You can’t help smiling a little, both at the affectionate tone of voice he uses to tease you and at how ridiculous your worries suddenly seem.  
“the cad, how dare he…”  
“I DON’T SOUND LIKE THAAAAT…”

Sans jumps off the couch and walks over to where you’re all curled up, kneeling down in front of the sofa. You peek at him through your fingers for a moment, and he’s scanning your face intently, probably looking for signs of a smile. He always stops kidding around when you’re not actually laughing along, and the thought puts a proper, if embarrassed, grin on your face. He snort-laughs one more time.  
“you’re ridiculous, bro.”  
He puts his hands on your arms. You take the cue to slowly pull them away, holding them in front of your chest. Your eyes are closed, still.  
“just the implication that i could like anything better than you… honestly.”  
There’s a soft clacking noise and a pleasant, warm sensation on your forehead.  
“it’s like you don’t know me at all.”  
This is too much. Your whole body feels hot. You almost cover your face again, but instead work up the courage to open your eyes and reach out to him. 

A good-natured chuckle.  
“there it is.”  
He crawls onto the couch, loosely wrapping an arm around the bottom of your ribcage. You immediately put a leg over his hips and hold his head close to your chest, squirming around happily as your magic resonates and you’re surrounded by a sense of deep, overwhelming fondness. You feel so… valuable. Like you’re suddenly the most important thing in the world, instead of... Well.  
“you know you could’ve done that at any time, right?”  
His voice is almost tender. It stirs something within you, spurs on your imagination - That’s probably pretty close to how he’d sound if your faces were closer, if his hand was on your cheek and his eyes were locked onto yours, or… or your mouth, maybe. You can picture that really vividly, for some reason.  
“didn’t even have to say anything. just come in for a hug. i’ll know what’s up.”  
You move your hand lower, lightly running it up and down his side, and raise the previously unoccupied one to his skull.  
“SAME TO YOU, SANS.”  
His grip on you tightens a little.

“so. did anything… happen? not that you need a reason, i just. wanna know.”  
“NOT REALLY?”  
A tired sigh escapes you.  
“I’M SORRY I SNAPPED AT YOU. I JUST FELT…”  
You stare at the blank TV screen.  
“…LONELY, I GUESS. LIKE EVERYONE HAS BETTER THINGS TO DO THAN DEAL WITH ME.”  
“jeez. that’s rough.”  
Actually, you thought you were being a bit of a crybaby, but if Sans thinks it’s “rough”, then your feelings must be valid after all. You’re glad you opened up to him.  
“don’t get too hung up on it, though. pretty much everybody feels like that sometimes.”  
You pull back a little to look him in the eyes.  
“DO YOU?”  
He winks at you, answering without a moment’s hesitation.  
“nah. i always know i’ve got the coolest bro in the world looking out for me.”  
The thought that he needs you just as much as you need him is a reassuring one.  
“NYEH HEH HEH…”  
You smile and, slowly, tilt your head forward until it makes contact with his.

You stay like that for a good long while, rubbing little circles into your brother’s temple as his eyes fall closed and his breathing slows. Inaction and idleness are repugnant to you, generally, but there’s something about these moments that fills you with a deep, satisfying kind of contentment.

“IF YOU DIDN’T HAVE ME, YOU’D… STILL HAVE OTHERS, THOUGH.”  
He returns from the brink of sleep, yawning.  
“if i didn’t have you, i’d spend all day loafing around in my room.”  
“OH NO…”  
“inhaling entire bags of popato chisps.”  
“NO!”  
“letting lots of little dogs into the house.”  
“NOOOOOOO!!!”  
“drooling on me and everything else as they please.”  
“UGH, SANS…”  
“it’s true. you’re all that’s keeping me from living my wildest dreams.”  
You squeeze him tightly. Too tightly, if that choked noise just now meant anything.  
“I WON’T LET THAT HAPPEN!!!”  
“yeah, i- i’m counting on it, bro-“  
You release him again. He sighs with relief.

“I MEAN IT, THOUGH! YOU HAVE ALL THESE OTHER FRIENDS…”  
“i have some bar buddies, sure.”  
He looks up at you, grinning.  
“they’re not your competition, though. don’t even come close-“  
“ARGH, NO!”  
You cover his mouth, offended.  
“I’M ACTUALLY JEALOUS OF *YOU* THIS TIME!”  
You cover your own mouth, mortified.  
“I MEAN… I’M NOT EXACTLY JEALOUS, BUT…”  
Sans snickers. Your face falls.  
“…WHY IS IT SO EASY FOR YOU?”  
He quiets down, looking awkward.

“i, uh…”  
You sigh. He’s never had any answers for you, just praise and reassurance.  
“I MUST BE DOING SOMETHING WRONG.”  
“…maybe your jokes just aren’t obnoxious enough?”  
You frown.  
“I DOUBT IT.”  
“yeah. sorry.”

You’re silent for a while, hugging him close. At least you’ll always have this.  
“you could try coming along to grillby’s and hanging out with us, though. standing offer.”  
You furrow your brows. As if you’d never considered that before.  
“YOU KNOW I DON’T DO WELL IN… SETTINGS LIKE THAT.”  
“you don’t really have to “do well”. god knows i’m not impressing anyone in there.”  
That’s probably true. You’re sure he could if he wanted to, but he’s never even seemed interested in anyone’s admiration.  
“it’s not a performance. you don’t have to convince people of your greatness to befriend them.”  
It’s… so hard, though. Thinking of social interaction as a performance actually makes it easier. You feel like you’re in control, then. The reactions are predictable, even if they’re not positive. As soon as you’re told to “just be yourself”, as soon as you don’t have any familiar framework to fall back on, you’re lost. Doubly so in an environment full of unfamiliar people and sensations.

“plus, the monsters there… well, they kinda come pre-impressed.”  
“…WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”  
“they know all about how cool you are, bro.”  
You take a second to process that information.  
“DID YOU…”  
“tell them? yeah, all the time.”  
He looks proud.  
“some days, i talk about very little else. you ought to have a veritable fan club by now.”

A flustered smile slowly spreads across your face.  
“WHAT… WHAT KIND OF STUFF DO YOU SAY?”  
He shrugs.  
“just the truth.”  
He grabs your shoulders and pulls himself up until you’re at eye level with each other.  
“you’re always there to take care of me. and you always put up with my laziness.”  
That’s not much of an accomplishment, is it? It’s normal to be there for the ones you love.  
“so, you’re dependable. and patient. and, uh, loyal. it’s really admirable.”  
…Wow, he’s totally right! You must have been taking your own greatness for granted. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if the things you do even matter to him at all, but… you guess they do. Your chest swells with pride.  
“I ACCEPT YOUR PRAISE!”  
“nice. i got more.”  
You rub his back gratefully.

“remember that time the kid with a kite for a head got stuck in a tree?”  
“HOW COULD I FORGET, IT WAS A DISASTER!”  
“hmm. i thought it was a breeze.”  
“WHY-“  
Oh god.  
“SANS!!!”  
You put one hand to your mouth and the other to his face, shoving him away. He retaliates by… tilting his head back and pressing a playful kiss to your wrist.  
“NYEH!”  
Unorthodox, but effective. You recoil immediately, feeling a slight tingle on the sensitive bones. He looks incredibly self-satisfied.

You inconspicuously rub your wrist.  
“DID YOU JUST BRING THIS UP TO MAKE A DUMB JOKE OUT OF A SERIOUS SITUATION, OR-“  
“no, no, i’ve got a point.”  
He shuffles closer again, no longer in danger of being pushed off the couch.  
“when we discovered them, you could’ve walked away, or told someone else to deal with it, but instead you climbed up there and saved ‘em yourself.”  
You put a hand to your chest.  
“OF COURSE! IT WAS MY CIVIC DUTY!”  
“well, that makes you kind, and brave, and super dedicated to anything you set your mind to… that tree was pretty high.”  
“I KNOW! IT WAS NERVE-WRACKING! I SWEAR WE ACTUALLY FELL PAST THE LAST FEW BRANCHES, BUT… REALLY SLOWLY, FOR SOME REASON?”  
He winks.  
“maybe a gust of wind picked you up.”  
“MAYBE… IT WAS PRETTY STRONG…”

He closes his eyes for a while, looking fond, but also strangely serious.  
“you’ve got what it takes to be a hero, bro. you’re always putting others first.”  
“WOWIE…”  
“even if i’d prefer it if you took care of yourself, instead. i’m selfish like that.”  
You’re… genuinely touched. You smile, full of affection, and pull him towards yourself, one arm around his shoulders, one on his hips. He clings to you.

“y’know, you’re also the best hugger in the underground. takes some excellent technique to be so snuggly without any body fat.”  
“…YOU HAVEN’T TOLD YOUR FRIENDS THAT, HAVE YOU?”  
He chuckles.  
“nah, i’m telling you. you’re a skeleton of many talents.”  
You hum, amused.  
“I’M ALSO PRETTY GOOD AT SMOOCHING. THE SAME THING APPLIES THERE, I THINK.”  
He chokes off a laugh.  
“jeez. well, you can’t just throw around claims like that without backing ‘em up.“  
“OH?”  
You were joking, really, and he might be, too, but now that the opportunity has presented itself, you feel like you can’t afford to miss it. You snake your arm around his waist and swiftly turn him on his back, looming over him, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. He’s pretty taken aback by it.  
“you look…”  
He pushes himself deeper into the couch cushions, seemingly hoping to disappear into them.  
“…determined. to prove yourself, i mean.”

As you take in your current position - your brother lying underneath you, not quite pinned down, but unlikely to move, regardless - you feel a strange sort of excitement running through you. You’re pretty sure he can feel it, too.  
“well, uh.”  
You’ve never seen him this flustered. It’s a good look on him.  
“don’t… don’t let me stop you.”  
Gosh. Where to start?

You put your hands on his chest and, slowly, lean down towards him, still considering where to smooch him, first. As your faces get closer and closer, Sans’ eyes widen more and more, and you change your course at the last second, doing your best to smile reassuringly as your teeth meet his forehead. It’s not just a casual peck, this time, you put all of your feelings into the kiss, all the tenderness you can possibly muster. You can’t keep a hint of passion out of it, either.  
“that’s…”  
You don’t stop just yet, dragging your teeth up and down, revelling in the feeling of the cool bone heating up underneath your mouth. His breathing grows shaky.  
“a-alright, that’s-“  
Your mouth travels sideways and downwards without ever leaving him, across his cheek, down to his jaw, and a choked moan escapes him, and you can feel something like static electricity crackling along your bones-  
“alright! that’s enough. i give.”  
That finally makes you pull back.  
“YOU GIVE?”  
“yeah, i, i give up. i admit it. you’re the best…”  
He suddenly looks uncomfortable, like it took him this long to realise what you’ve been doing.  
“the best at… you know. everything.”  
He’s mumbling, avoiding your eyes.  
“THANKS?”  
“yeah. good job on… all that.”

There’s the same kind of tension between you that made him leave, made him run away from you the last time you got this close, and, suddenly, a painful realisation hits you. Your body runs cold. This must be… You must be scaring him. God, of course you are, he’s been nothing but accommodating and you’ve been nothing but pushy. You don’t know why you didn’t realise it sooner. 

You get off of him, the magic that had hung in the air just a moment ago suddenly gone, replaced by heavy regret. You remind yourself that feeling sorrow over this is totally unnecessary. Nothing was lost. There was never anything to lose. You’re just a pair of siblings, messing around, and one of you happened to take it a step too far, and now it’s over. Like when two children play-wrestle, and one takes it a bit too seriously and actually hurts the other- It’s not a big deal, really. You stopped before you could injure him, after all. You shouldn’t be trembling.

You shouldn’t be…  
God, you shouldn’t be like this.

“SORRY.”  
You don’t trust your smile right now, there’s something crawling up your spine, pulling at your face and choking your voice, so you turn away from him. You’ll just have to put this behind you, like you always do. You’ve had more painfully awkward encounters with people than you care to remember, and this is no different. You’ve always managed to get over them. Sure, sometimes you came home feeling like a worthless screw-up and cried into your brother’s shoulder for a while, but… but now you’ve ruined that, too. Now you don’t even have him anymore.

You have to stop thinking, right now, you have to let him know that you’re alright before you can leave. If he notices you’re upset, he’ll follow you.

“it’s… it’s okay. i mean, you didn’t-”  
“I KNOW IT’S OKAY!”  
You swallow, harshly.  
“EVERYTHING’S OKAY.”  
“listen, i didn’t mean to-“  
“IT’S FINE, SANS. I’M…”  
You put a hand to your head, feeling woozy.  
“I’M JUST GONNA GO TO MY ROOM, OKAY?”  
There’s a long silence. You don’t know what his face looks like right now, but you can imagine. Relief, barely covered up by pity. You can see it pretty clearly, if you try.  
“…okay.”  
You don’t say anything else, and you don’t turn around, you just walk upstairs, keeping your pace steady, careful not to make it seem like you’re running away, open the door to your room, step inside, close it, and, there, you’re safe again. You lean against the door and bury your face in your hands, breathing deeply.

“yip.”  
What is-  
“yip, yip.”  
…Of course.

That annoying dog made it into your room, somehow. You honestly have no earthly clue how it did it, considering the door was closed.  
“baw.”  
It jumps onto your bed, stretching out like it owns the place, and wags its tail while looking straight at you. It’s probably the only creature on the planet happy to see you right now, even though you called it “overrated” earlier.

“I’M… SORRY I JUDGED YOU SO HARSHLY?”  
“yip.”  
You have no idea if it understands a single word you’re saying, but, right now, you’ll talk to anyone who’ll listen.  
“YOU’RE A PRETTY GOOD DOG, AS FAR AS… AS FAR AS DOGS GO.”  
Its ears perk up noticeably at the words “good dog”. You walk over and sit next to it.  
“YOU MAKE SANS REALLY HAPPY, SO… YOU’RE ONE STEP AHEAD OF ME, THERE.”¬¬¬  
It whimpers, pushing its head against your side, begging to be pet. You oblige.  
“I ALWAYS JUST TAKE AND TAKE…”  
You shudder as you recall today’s events.  
“I DIDN’T EVEN THANK HIM FOR COMFORTING ME? OR APOLOGISE PROPERLY FOR MESSING EVERYTHING UP. I ACTED LIKE A CREEP, AND THEN I JUST LEFT.”  
You fall back onto your bed.  
“I’M THE WORST.”

The dog waddles over to your head, unconcerned by your failures and flaws, and gives your cheek a sudden lick. You wince.  
“YEAH, I… I DESERVE THIS.”  
It keeps licking your face, and you sigh deeply, accepting your fate.  
“HE’LL PROBABLY ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED, AND WE’LL NEVER GET TO TALK ABOUT IT, AND I’LL HAVE TO FEEL GUILTY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.”  
It finally stops, seemingly satisfied, and moves over to lie on top of your chest. The weight of it is oddly reassuring. You place a hand on its back and sigh.  
“WELL. THANK YOU FOR LISTENING, REGARDLESS.”  
You feel like it understands, somehow. Not your thoughts, maybe, but the state of your soul.  
“I CAN SEE WHY MY BROTHER LIKES HAVING YOU AROUND. YOU’RE VERY… NON-JUDGEMENTAL.”  
You try feeling happy, affectionate feelings at it. It’s hard, but it actually lightens your mood a little. The dog reacts to your wordless affirmation, starts panting, wagging its tail wildly, eyes bright.  
“WOULD YOU… WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE FRIENDS, MAYBE?”  
“yip!”  
That’s probably as much confirmation as you’re going to get. You carefully wrap your arms around your new friend and turn on your side, burying your face in its fur.

Even though you spent all afternoon lying around and being useless, you feel completely exhausted, soul listless, drained of its energy. 

You’ll just close your eyes for a second.

When you finally regain consciousness, you feel even worse than before. Your body isn’t used to naps. You’re dizzy, and slightly sick, and there’s an awful taste in your mouth, along with several dog hairs. You open your eyes –

Your soul aches like somebody plucked it out of your chest and stepped on it. The dog’s still there, peacefully sleeping next to you, lying on its tummy, and across from you is Sans, looking tired, worried, anxious. He must have snuck into your room at some point, hoping to reconcile, maybe even to read to you, and instead found you snoozing. Your hand is resting on the pup’s back, and Sans’ hand is resting on top of yours, fingers intertwined, and you can’t even look at it without feeling tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know what’s happening. You don’t know what to do. 

You just want things to be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

Papyrus looks utterly miserable. He’s hunched in on himself, one arm wrapped around his torso, blankly staring at the spot where your hand covers his. It was meant to be a conciliatory, reassuring gesture, maybe even an admission of some kind, but he can’t have taken it as such. If he seemed plagued by uncertainty before, he now seems completely, helplessly lost.

Your brother’s soul is a beautiful thing, full of hope, full of courage, and, above all else, full of love. He’s always been eager to share it, desperate to receive it, and, at the same time, strangely reluctant to put himself in the kind of vulnerable position in which he might actually be shown the deep, sincere affection he longs for.

He dishes out casual compliments, random acts of kindness and earnest encouragement like it’s going out of style, and when his efforts pay off, he’s giddy enough to blast through the earth’s crust like a rocket ship, but only briefly. All of his connections remain superficial, and the thought of his many failures - every time he panicked and pulled back, every time he kept someone at arm’s length, every time he scared them off - drags him back underground before he knows it.

You’re really the only person he’s completely open and comfortable with. At least, you hope he is. You know he still doesn’t tell you everything, you know there are days where his smile is too reminiscent of your own for comfort, but, overall, you like to think you have a pretty healthy relationship.

There’s an underlying fondness to all of your interactions, even when it wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer. Teasing, scolding, fighting over inconsequential things, none of that has ever put a rift between you.

You never imagined that the thing to finally drive you apart would be… this.

It makes sense. You were taken aback at the time, but, considering the facts, it all makes perfect sense. You’re very close, physically as well as emotionally, you feel safe around each other, and Papyrus is just a bit lonelier and just a bit less innocent than you’d thought. Just a bit more… frustrated. Of course he’d project those feelings onto someone harmless.

You should’ve just rolled with it. You should’ve stopped him before it even had a chance to happen. God, you don’t know what you should have done, but, no matter what, you should have kept your cool. Shouldn’t have made him feel ashamed. Shouldn’t have let yourself be overwhelmed. Shouldn’t have indulged for as long as you did.

You get off that train of thought before it can take you anywhere you absolutely do not want to go. All that matters right now is your brother, and the incredibly strange situation you’ve found yourselves in. You were hoping to brush it off with a casual wink and a terrible pun, but, looking at him now, that course of action is seeming less appealing by the minute.

You’re supposed to be a safe haven of sorts - it’s all you’re good for, really, it’s the only thing that feels rewarding anymore - and now you’ve become the source of his pain, instead.

As much as you dislike doing things…  
You have to do something about this.

“papyrus.”  
He must have been similarly lost in thought. As soon as he realises that you’re awake, his eyes widen, his hand is retracted, and his entire body is practically repelled by yours, squeezing itself against the foot of the bed. The dog trots off, satisfied with the amount of pets it has achieved today.  
“SANS! I WAS, JUST ABOUT TO LEAVE, ACTUALLY-”  
“then it’s a good thing i caught you in time.”  
You slowly sit up, not without taking a second to regret the end of your nap, and pat the space next to you, inviting him to come back.   
“I’M SORRY, BUT I…”  
He puts a hand to his cheek.  
“I CAN’T AFFORD TO SPEND ALL DAY IDLY SITTING AROUND, YOU KNOW? I HAVE TO GET OUT THERE, AND, DO THINGS…”

He’s not nearly as much of a pro at avoiding uncomfortable conversations as you are, mainly because he lacks practice. He’s usually so eager to talk through any issues you might have. Although, usually, you’re the one being put on the spot, not him.  
“it’s sunday, bro. you should take the day off.”  
“I DON’T NEED DAYS OFF.”  
He looks out the window, conflicted. Part of him already wants to stay, you know it.  
“I NEED… TO TRAIN. WORK ON MY ENDURANCE, MAYBE.”  
There’s that fake smile.  
“IT’S SUCH A NICE DAY, I COULD JUST RUN A MARATHON THROUGH THE ENTIRE UNDERGROUND-”  
“yeah, running from your feelings does sound like great exercise.”  
“NYEH???”  
And there’s the genuine bashfulness hiding underneath.

“I MEAN, NO??? I’M NOT RUNNING FROM- FROM ANYTHING???”  
He retreats backwards until he’s sitting on the race car’s hood, threatening to slip off.  
“y'know, i never thought you were the type to do that, either. but if talking to me is just too scary for you to handle, then-”  
“TOO SCARY? FOR ME, THE GREAT AND COURAGEOUS PAPYRUS?”  
Seems like you’ve awakened his fighting spirit. He balls his hands into fists.  
“OF COURSE NOT!”  
He awkwardly shuffles forwards and sits down in front of you, legs and arms crossed.  
“GIVE IT YOUR BEST SHOT, SANS!”  
His momentary, spiteful confidence flickers and fades again.  
“I’M… READY FOR ANYTHING!”

Great. Now you have him where you want him… and no idea what to say. You’re really not that good at the whole genuine heart-to-heart thing.  
“well then.”  
He’s frozen completely still.   
“seems to me like you’re a bit… confused.”  
You’re not sure what to say next, so you wait for him to respond in some way. He stares at the wall, jaw tense, eyes unblinking, pretty obviously screaming on the inside. Just when you think he’s about to vocalise his thoughts, the last thread of his resolve suddenly gives out and he whimpers, hiding his face as he turns away from you.

“hey. hey there, buddy, it’s ok.”  
You awkwardly reach out to give him a pat on the back.   
“I’M SORRY…”  
His voice cuts through your soul like a kitchen knife. It’s wavering, the way it always does when he’s about to cry.   
“I’M REALLY SORRY, SANS…”  
You had expected embarrassment, but this…  
“don’t be.”  
You get closer, cautiously, resting your forehead next to the hand on his spine.  
“it’s okay. promise.”  
He’s trembling. You just stay where you are, trying to remain calm, keeping your touch soft and your intentions kind.

It takes a while for him to turn around again. He looks like a mess, expression pained, traces of hastily wiped away tears on his face. If nothing else, this is confirmation that there’s some serious, deep-seated shame and regret involved, here. Nothing you can just laugh off.

You take a deep breath.  
“listen. something… obviously went really wrong, back there.”  
He’s still sitting with his legs crossed, pushing his fists against the foot in his lap, arms tense, head hanging low.  
“i mean, clearly you got hurt. and i don’t want… that.”  
His expression is unreadable.   
“so… maybe we could… try again?”  
He looks up at you, eyes wide, still glittering with tears.  
“YOU MEAN…?”  
“yeah. let’s just reset. forget about the whole thing, and do it right, this time.”

“Resetting” is… Among other things, it’s a strategy for resolving interpersonal problems that you were taught when you were little. First, you identify the point at which it all went awry. Then, you make a pact with whoever was involved to pretend that everything past that point never happened. Together, you decide on how it should have happened, instead, and proceed to act out the ideal scenario you came up with, effectively replacing the original, painful one. You mainly used it for things like overlooked achievements and unacknowledged distress, and normally it would be reserved for, well, children, but you think it might be useful here.

Papyrus looks thoughtful.  
“wanna give it a try?”  
“…ALRIGHT. I THINK I HAVE A GOOD IDEA OF HOW TO ACT, THIS TIME.”  
“perfect.”

You’re not so sure yourself. There’s a lot of things you’re hoping to impart to him. Most importantly, that he hasn’t ruined anything, couldn’t ruin your relationship if he tried. That he’s not bad or dirty for experiencing perfectly natural urges, and you won’t hold it against him if they make themselves known at… inopportune times. That you’ll never withhold your affection from him, even if there’s a chance of things getting awkward, and that he should feel free to express his feelings, too.

You were just caught off-guard, is all. It was a bit too much, a bit too soon, but you’re pretty sure he’s caught on to that fact. He’s bound to go slower, this time, and you won’t react in any way that could be misconstrued as rejection.

Alright. You can do this.

“HOW FAR BACK SHOULD WE GO? BECAUSE I HAVE A SCRIPT FOR THE ENTIRE AFTERNOON WORKED OUT-”  
“no, no, that sounds like… way too much effort.”  
He gives you a spectacularly unimpressed look.  
“let’s start… closer to where it went wrong. like, just before it went wrong.”  
He suddenly seems less sure of himself.  
“THAT’S GONNA BE A BIT HARDER TO FIX.”  
A moment of contemplative silence.  
“BUT… IF YOU THINK SO. I GUESS WE CAN TRY.”

Neither of you is quite willing to make the first move.   
“well, i guess we’ve got to get into position.”  
A bead of sweat forms on your brother’s temple.  
“REALLY? THAT’S THE MOMENT YOU WANT TO RECREATE?”  
“‘course. c'mere, bro.”  
He approaches you like you’re going to bolt if he makes any sudden movements. Ridiculous. You wouldn’t bother to get up if the bed caught fire.  
“SORRY… ABOUT THIS.”  
“hey, the whole point is that it’s ok.”  
He’s finally kneeling over you, but, with his back straight, it fails to feel as intimate as it did before.

“you remember how we got here, right?”  
“I’D REALLY RATHER NOT, BUT… YES.”  
You can’t help grinning a little.  
“you’re about to prove that you’re the best kisser in the underground.”  
He folds his hands in front of his mouth.  
“SANS…”  
“and i say…”  
You feel a twinge of embarrassment yourself, this time.  
“don’t let me stop you.”  
You look up at him. After a moment, he also looks down at you.  
“so… really don’t, this time.”  
He inhales, deeply.  
“IS THAT MY CUE?”  
“you got it.”

It’s totally inappropriate, but when he finally leans down again, planting his hands next to your head, you feel something like excitement, burning hot in your chest. This is for him. You’re doing this for him. Don’t get caught up in your own emotions again.

You’re almost desperate for his teeth to make contact with your skull again, but he’s taking his sweet time, eyes closed, probably mentally steeling himself for what’s next. When he finally opens them again, he’s smiling, sweetly.

“GOOD TALK, BROTHER!”

He gets out of bed. You’re actually too shocked and disappointed to stop him.

“I HOPE I DIDN’T MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE, AT ANY POINT. I WAS JUST KIDDING AROUND, AND I…”  
He turns his torso towards you, one hand on his hip and one giving you a thumbs up.  
“REALLY APPRECIATE YOU BEING THERE FOR ME!”  
You’re speechless. Papyrus looks increasingly awkward, still frozen in the same pose.  
“SO… IS THAT IT? ARE WE GOOD?”  
You blink.  
“no?”

He deflates to an almost comical degree.  
“WHAT DID I DO WRONG *THIS* TIME?”  
It takes you a second to shake off your confusion.  
“bro, i didn’t want you to… the point wasn’t for us to not get close at all.”  
He rubs his arm, embarrassed… Annoyed?  
“just… not as close, maybe? or, not as suddenly?”  
You’re not sure, really. You were hoping he’d decide for you.  
“we don’t have to stop being… affectionate. or be super awkward and cautious about it, or whatever.”  
God, having to say this stuff out loud is exactly what you were trying to avoid.  
“you can just… if you wanna smooch your big bro, you can smooch your big bro.”  
He really does look angry. You don’t know who he’s angry with.  
“that’s it, really. i kinda overreacted, back there, and i wanted to make it up to you.”

Papyrus’ body language vaguely reminds you of a rubber band about to snap.  
“YOU’RE NOT THE ONE AT FAULT HERE, SANS.”  
“i kinda am? i kinda am, too. look at you, you’re a wreck-”  
“OF COURSE I AM!”  
You recoil at the harshness of his words.  
“I HAVE TO DEAL WITH BEING THE FREAK WHO- WHO WANTED-”  
His voice abruptly cuts out, and the rest of his sentence is replaced by a choked sob. Your mind goes blank. He moves to leave, and, without even being aware of it, you get up, holding on to his shirt.  
“hey. don’t go.”  
His tears are silent, his hand covering his mouth.  
“please. i don’t… i don’t think i could handle it, if you left right now.”  
You pull him back towards the bed.  
“c'mon, papyrus. stay with me.”

He follows, reluctantly, probably feeling too weak to resist much. As soon as he’s sitting across from you, you practically throw yourself at him, hugging as tightly as you possibly can. He doesn’t reciprocate.  
“i love you so much, bro.”  
You have to get through to him.  
“i’m always going to love you so, so much. no matter what.”  
You feel a tear drop down onto your skull.  
“you’re perfect, alright? and, and you’re always gonna be perfect, in all the ways that count-”  
“SAAAANS…”  
His arms wrap around you, and, as the tension leaves him, he drops backwards, finally sobbing in earnest instead of keeping it all down.

“shhh, shhh.”  
In this position, he’s kind of awkward to hug. You end up kneeling above him - sitting on his chest, really - and carefully petting his head, hands shaking slightly.  
“it’s okay.”  
You gently wipe his tears away.  
“it’s okay to cry.”  
He holds on to your arms to steady himself. You run your thumbs over his cheekbones, and he just lies there, sniffling helplessly, his ribcage rising and descending quickly and irregularly.

“you wanna be close to me, right?”  
He swallows, barely managing an affirmatory hum.  
“i wanna be close to you, too.”  
You’re not sure exactly what you mean by that. You don’t really care. It can be anything he needs to hear. Your teeth meet his forehead, and it’s so easy, so natural to freely let your love flow from your soul to his, making him gasp and, eventually, still.

You pull back, making eye contact. He looks… exhausted, mostly. You kiss his cheek- Dried-up tears aren’t exactly delicious, but you won’t let that dissuade you. You plant peck after peck on his face, and each is accompanied by an adorable, tiny noise.  
“ISN’T THAT - NYEH - REALLY SALTY?”  
His voice is hoarse, shaky.  
“it is. but i’m prepared to make that sacrifice.”  
“NYEH HEH… GROSS…”  
You lower yourself on top of him again, nuzzling your faces together. His breathing is shallow, still, and his hold on you is hesitant.   
“could you… sit up, maybe?”  
He grunts, supporting your pelvis and pushing both you and his torso upwards before leaning against the bedframe. Amazing. You probably couldn’t even do a regular sit-up. Not that you’ve ever tried.

You snuggle into his arms, encourage him to encircle your waist with his legs, and press your mouth to the bottom of his mandible. The warmth slowly returns to his body, and he sighs with contentment, firmly rubbing your back. It’s perfect… Well, almost.

“hey.”  
He looks down at you, completely worn out. Wordlessly, you bump your forehead against his teeth, and it’s not a kiss yet, not without any kissing intention behind it, but it should make it pretty clear that that’s what you want.  
“I… I DON’T KNOW IF…”  
“c'mon, bro, don’t leave me hanging.”  
Millimeter by millimeter, he moves his face towards yours. There’s an extra second of hesitation when his mouth hovers just above your skull, and then you finally make contact. The kiss is soft, cautious, barely noticeable, but it’s there, and you’re not about to give up on it.  
“don’t pull away, alright?”  
A small whimper, a surge of warmth. You love feeling connected like this.

You quickly lose track of time. The progression of your brother’s feelings is much more important. Primarily, there’s an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude, and underneath it, you can make out a hint of that careful tenderness you’ve been missing, more desperately than you knew. It’s steadily intensifying as he allows himself to relax, growing warmer and warmer, although he always stops himself just before his intentions turn hot. You rub your thumbs across his clavicles, trying to mirror the same emotions back at him.

Suddenly, the feedback from his soul cuts out entirely.  
“bro?”  
You glance upwards when you feel him suddenly raise his head. His eyes are half-lidded.  
“NYEH?”  
He’d fallen asleep with his mouth still pressed to your forehead. Something in your chest almost aches at how precious that is.  
“sorry. go ahead and take a nap.”  
“AH, NO, I REALLY SHOULDN’T…”  
He looks around the room, disoriented, holding a hand to his temple.  
“I ALREADY… ALREADY TOOK A NAP TODAY, I HAVEN’T EVEN DONE ANYTHING PRODUCTIVE…”  
“no offense, bro, but i don’t think you’ll be able to accomplish much of anything right now.”

“NO, I…”  
You remove yourself from him. He lies on his side, puts one hand on the edge of the bed, and braces himself to get up and get out there. His legs don’t seem to agree with that plan, though, and when he tries to roll out of bed, he only winds up limply hanging off of it before dropping to the ground, groaning with displeasure.

“I HAVE A HEADACHE…”  
“no wonder.”  
This sort of thing is exactly why you just have a mattress.  
“get up here and get some rest.”  
He crawls back into bed, lacking all of his usual grace, and nestles into the blanket.  
“I SHOULD… I SHOULD AT LEAST WASH MY FACE, FIRST.”  
“i got'cha…”  
You tuck him in, winking.  
“…covered.”  
He whines.  
“SAAANS, YOU’RE GONNA MAKE IT WORSE…”  
“alright, alright, just gimme a minute.”

You disappear and reappear, once, twice, and soon enough you’re sitting next to him with a damp towel in hand. Papyrus’ eyes are closed, brows furrowed in discomfort.  
“hey, bro, don’t doze off just yet.”  
You kneel next to him and support his head with one hand, gently dragging the towel across his cheekbones with the other. He blinks his eyes open, ever so subtly nuzzling his face into your palm.  
“I CAN DO THAT MYSELF, YOU KNOW…”  
“do you want to?”  
You massage his temples for a bit, hoping to ease his stress-induced headache. He gives a pleased sigh.  
“NO…”  
“heh.”

Carefully, very carefully, you run the towel over the rim of his eyesocket. Predictably, he winces and squeezes his eyes shut.  
“sorry. don’t want 'em to get all gross and crusty.”  
“NYEH…”  
The thought of that is off-putting enough to make him endure the rest of your ministrations. When you’re done, you press a tiny kiss to both of his eyelids, and he promptly sinks underneath the blanket until he’s barely peeking out of it. It’s the good kind of embarrassment, this time.

You lie down next to him, dropping the towel on the ground, and nonchalantly sneak your arm underneath the covers. The back of your hand brushes up against his, and, slowly, as if afraid of being discovered, Papyrus brings your fingertips together. Something about the gesture puts a dopey grin on your face. For a while, you stare at the ceiling in comfortable silence.

“i didn’t pull back 'cause it felt… bad.”  
You summon a bit of courage and properly grasp his hand in yours.  
“felt nice. feels nice. i just thought that… it shouldn’t, y'know?”  
You’re not sure if Papyrus is still awake. Somehow, that makes this easier, if a whole lot more useless.  
“'cause… that’s not supposed to be a thing bros do. hold hands and stuff.”  
There’s a flicker of a reaction, too weak to make out.  
“i guess i got kinda scared. but… that’s silly.”  
Your eyes fall closed as exhaustion catches up with you. You’ve actually been putting a lot of effort into comforting your little bro. It’s the least you can do, really, but you’re still surprised you made it through this.

“all those limitations are just made up. pointless. we can do whatever we want.”  
You squeeze his hand.  
“anyone who says otherwise is just… jealous they don’t have a bro who’s cool enough to cuddle with.”  
He doesn’t squeeze back. Really must be asleep. You can safely say something incredibly cheesy, then.  
“real brotherly love is… nothing to be underestimated.”  
It’s true. Some days, it almost tears your chest apart with its intensity. You haven’t heard anybody else describe it like that, but, really, that’s just kind of sad for them. It doesn’t reflect badly on you. It doesn’t hurt Papyrus.

You’re really glad you came to that conclusion. Now that you’ve said it out loud, many of the shapeless, unnamed worries at the back of your mind are receding. You’re fine. This is fine. You let yourself drift off, your soul feeling just a bit lighter…

“THANK YOU, SANS.”  
His voice is barely audible.   
“you’re welcome, bro.”


End file.
